


Masquerade

by rachelcabbit



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Community: 64damn_prompts, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, High School, Identity Reveal, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelcabbit/pseuds/rachelcabbit
Summary: Helga really didn't want to go to prom. But her fairy-godmother (or rather her annoyingly-perfect sister) says she WILL go to the Masquerade Ball! Wearing a mask, no-one will know it's her, so why not? She could even get a dance with a certain Football-Head... but when it comes to revealing herself to him, can she possibly be brave enough to drop the masquerade she has lived for so long?





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally uploaded to fanfiction.net back in January 2011, and had been written much earlier than that. It was inspired by the 64damn_prompts community on LiveJournal and prompt #43 - empire. I interpreted it somewhat differently to what you'd expect though!  
> There have been a couple of tweaks to punctuation and grammar errors but the plot remains the same.  
> Please enjoy!

**~Part One~**

 

 “Olga...” Helga growled at her older sister, her arms folded across her chest.

 “But Baby Sister, it's perfect for you!”

Helga stared at her incredulously. Perfect? Perfect and Helga did not go well together. Just like Helga and Olga. Helga and Lila. Helga and – Arnold.  She frowned. A pause filled the air with silence. It was the night of Helga's senior prom, and Olga, who had long since returned to Hillwood, was determined to help her little caterpillar sister blossom into a beautiful butterfly.

“Helga, honey, I promise that you will look stunning.” Olga smiled, her eyes glimmering with affection. Helga sighed. As much as she tried to keep resenting her sister, she had become so important to her lately. Since returning from college, Olga had paid her sister more attention than she had ever received from her parents. She seemed genuine in her attempts to build bridges, and although as annoying as hell, Helga could not deny that her heart was in the right place. Helga dropped her defensive crossed arms.

“Fine.” she muttered, “I'll try it on.” Olga squealed in excitement. “-But that doesn't mean I’ll definitely wear it!” She added. “I don't even know if I want to go.” She walked over to her bed and crashed down onto it. Olga's perfectly shaped eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Not go to your prom? But Helga! It is a very important night for a young girl! It is the night you show everyone how much you have grown since you started school! You need to go and show them all what a beautiful, intelligent and graceful young woman you have become!” Helga laughed. Olga was so blind.

“Intelligent, I will grant you, but I am in no way a beautiful or graceful woman.” She looked at her socks. “I'm just an ugly tomboy.”

Olga tutted at her sister. She carefully hung up the item she had brought with her, on the back of the door, and then sat down next to the pigtailed blonde.

“Helga, sweetie...” She caressed Helga's hand, ignoring the flinch the action produced. “You are beautiful. You are graceful. You just haven't found a way to express that yet.” Helga looked up into Olga's smiling face, her own softening as she realised the truth her sister's eyes held. She wasn't acting, or just saying it. She honestly believed her little sister was... beautiful.

“H-how... how can you say that?” She whimpered.

“Because I know you, Baby Sister. I have watched you. Yes, I may have neglected you for so many of our childhood days, focusing on attaining the levels of perfection Mummy and Daddy expected of me, but since I came home from college, I have seen what a wonderful girl you have developed into. Give me this one night to prove to you that I can make you look as good on the outside as you are on the inside.”

Helga gulped. Then nodded. There was a determination in Olga's stare and a firmness in the grip on her hand, that showed she truly was a Pataki. Helga was too afraid to open her mouth to speak for a moment, lest she burst into tears at all the heartfelt emotion she was receiving. Olga got up and collected the item from the back of the door, as Helga stood up and shook her head violently – shaking the sappiness away and getting back into Pataki-mode.

“You sure I can pull that thing off?” Helga looked at the item skeptically. Olga smiled and nodded. She pulled off the plastic cover, revealing the dress underneath. Helga gasped.

It was a long length empire line gown, with layers of floating pink and white gauze. The high waistline was divided by a rose-pink ribbon, which tied and hung into a large bow at the back.

“I- I...” Helga didn't know what to say.

“Oh Helga, I think this will be perfect for you. When Phoebe told me that the theme was Masquerade I just knew this would be so right for you!” She handed the dress over. “Oh, how romantic it will be... you dressed like you have stepped from an Austen novel, looking like a lady of the Royal court... you will mesmerise every boy in that room!”

Helga smirked.

 “And as it is Masquerade, no one will know it is me until the unveiling...”

It was Phoebe's idea to have Senior Prom as a Masquerade. The idea was to have everyone wear masks and elaborate costumes and come alone. Then they would pair off and dance. Then votes would be cast for the best-dressed male and female to be the Prom King and Queen, and at the end of the evening everyone would remove their masks and reveal their identity. It was such a romantic idea that most of the girls liked it immediately, and the boys agreed as it meant they didn't have to worry about asking a date until the dance itself.

Helga looked down at her plain pink t-shirt and baggy grey slacks. She had been tempted to just not go and hadn't even bothered preparing a costume – much to Phoebe's dismay. She was now quite grateful that Phoebe had told Olga all about the prom. She was almost hopeful, as she ran her fingers across the gossamer folds of the dress.

“Let's make you up!” Olga cheered, grabbing a pair of tweezers and clicking them in Helga's direction. Helga's eyes widened, and she backed away.

“Woah! Wait a second Olga! Don’t come any closer! No! Nooo!”

 

~o000o~

 

          Hillwood High School's gym had been transformed into a ballroom, under the careful instruction of Student Body President, Phoebe Heyerdahl. She had seen to it that the entire room was gorgeous. The walls were draped in red velvet curtains, hiding the posters for the various sports teams, and each table was covered in snow-white tablecloths and decorated with roses and glitter confetti. There was an orchestra as well as a DJ, and the room had up-lights dotted around. It was beautiful.   
Phoebe surveyed her handiwork and smiled. Then she straightened her kimono-style gown and held up her mask as a guest approached her. The DJ was playing a catchy dance beat, and several masked couples were already dancing on the dance floor.

“Well, hello there.”

She smiled at the deep, husky voice.  A man dressed as Zorro had made his way over to her. He tipped his hat and winked at her from behind his bandana mask. It was unusual seeing his hair tied back as it was, and she was sure the tight black curls were threatening to bounce back into their usual upward position. Gerald without his tall hair was very un-Gerald, though his actions certainly gave him away.

“You throw quite a party, my fair Señorita.” He purred, taking her hand and kissing it. She giggled.

“I must warn you, Sir, that I am unavailable. Best be careful, as my football-playing boyfriend will be arriving soon.” ‘Zorro’ chuckled.

“I am sure I can take him.” He grinned, pulling back his black cape to reveal a plastic sword. Phoebe found herself being pulled into a kiss. She stood on her tiptoes and their lips met. She felt as though it was just the two of them in the world each time he kissed her. She was swiftly reminded that this was not the case by the sound of a young man clearing his throat embarrassedly.  The two broke apart quickly, blushing.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Arnold smiled, sheepishly.

“You will be…” Gerald muttered jokingly. Phoebe saw Gerald look at his friend and quirk an eyebrow. “You really went all out for the masquerade theme, huh?” He said sarcastically. The football-headed teen laughed.

“Sorry. I bought the tux before the theme was announced, so figured it would be ok to wear this and throw on a cape and mask. It’s not a problem is it?” He looked at Phoebe. She shook her head. He looked very smart – reminiscent of a Prince. His mask was blue and covered only his eyes, and his wild blonde hair had somehow been slicked back, but he still looked distinctly Arnold-ish. His head-shape gave him away. No surprises at his identity this evening.

“You look very handsome, Arnold.” She smiled. Arnold’s cheeks became tinged with pink, as he thanked her for the compliment.

“Hey! Stop flirting with my best friend in front of me, Pheebs. Or do I have to get my sword out and duel him for your affections?” Gerald joked. They all laughed. “Besides, nothing you can say to him will distract him from his feelings for a certain girl we all know…” He said, slyly, watching Arnold bluster with an incredulous look on his face.

“Hey! I told you not to-”

“Yep. That Lila, sure got herself one crazy stalker.” Gerald continued. Arnold visibly relaxed, then realised what had been said.

“Hey! I did not stalk Lila!”

Phoebe could tell there was more to this than what their words were saying. Lila was obviously a cover, and the identity of Arnold’s newest crush was a secret between the two childhood friends. She had her suspicions though, ever since Arnold had been allocated a seat beside a certain blonde-haired friend of hers in English class. She decided to put her suspicions to the test.

“I wonder when Helga is going to arrive...” She thought aloud. She grabbed Arnold’s attention immediately.

“She is coming, isn’t she?” He asked, eagerly, his hands starting to twiddle with the hem of his cape.

“Well, I’m not sure... she did mention to me that she thought it was pointless and she may not even turn up.” Arnold’s disappointment was clearly written on his face. She had to be right in her assumption. “Though, as it is a masquerade, she may already be here in disguise!”

“Wow!” Gerald exclaimed, interrupting Phoebe and Arnold's conversation. “Who's that girl?!”

Phoebe, feeling a rush of jealousy at how this girl had attracted her boyfriend's attention, turned around.

A tall, slender figure had walked into the gym, her mask hiding the top half of her face. Blonde waves of hair tumbled around past her bare shoulders. Phoebe's mouth fell agape when she realised who it was. She'd spent enough time with her best friend to recognise her, even though she had never seen Helga look so... feminine. She looked very awkward though, as though she wasn't sure what to do with herself. Her dress was gorgeous – pink, Helga's usual colour, as expected. Phoebe was impressed with Olga's selection – a Regency-style empire line ball gown of layered silk and gauze, decorated with ribbon. It was perfectly Helga, even though it was the most feminine thing Helga had ever worn. Jealousy subsided; she looked at the reactions of her friends. Gerald had started to pretend he was not eager to know who she was, for fear of upsetting his girlfriend, however, Arnold was in shock. Phoebe wondered if he had recognised Helga yet, or if he was merely appreciating the view. She was pleased she had chosen the Masquerade idea and could only hope that this would give Helga the confidence to finally confess to her “Ice Cream”.

 

~o000o~

 

Helga looked around from behind her mask. Her entrance had certainly caught a lot of attention.  Several masked men had turned to stare at her, and the fact that a certain football-headed masked man was one of them had not escaped her notice.

_Crimeny – you'd think I was some movie star or something the way they are staring_. She thought as she headed towards a table. She needed to sit down before she tripped on the stupidly long dress.

She realised someone was standing next to her. She looked up – her blue eyes meeting with confused green eyes, peering through a blue mask. She smiled at the football-headed man dressed in a formal tuxedo and cape. She didn't know how to greet him exactly. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She looked down and decided to remove her mask to let him know it was her.  She was feeling flushed and uncertain under his intense watch, as he analysed her.

Placing the mask on the tablecloth in front of her, a wave of her blonde hair fell across her eye. She looked up with her large, blue eyes, fearful of ridicule and rejection. 

“Cécile?” Arnold said in a whisper. “Is that you?” She could hardly hear him through the music, but hearing the name Cécile, she blanched. He didn't recognise her. Boy, it must have been some major make-over.

“It is you, isn't it?” His face broke into a large smile, “It's been so long since I last saw you. Wow, Cécile, you look amazing!”

Helga blushed, but couldn't help but be a little annoyed. But, if he thinks I am Cécile, and no-one else recognises me, I can be my true self around Arnold and let him know my feelings, without worrying about my reputation! She smiled slightly.

“Yeah, sure. Cécile...” she mumbled, looking away.

“I'm sorry. I-it's just I don't know your real name...” He offered his hand, “Would you like to dance?”

She paused. Should she worry that Arnold was treating her so nicely because he thought she was someone else? Or should she make the most of this attention? She decided to make the most of it, as Arnold would never offer to dance with her if he knew she was his school bully.

“Sure, why not?” She looked up at him warmly and placed her gloved hand in his. She stood up and he whisked her over to the dance floor, where DJ Brainy, currently dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, was playing some dance songs.

“Your dress is beautiful. Are you a Princess?” He asked as they danced along to the beat. She laughed.

 “Nope. I’ve just stepped out of a Jane Austen novel.” She smirked at the way her sister had described it. Arnold puzzled over this obvious in-joke, which he was not privy to.

 “S-so… it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve not seen you since Valentine’s Day back when I was nine years old. Nearly a decade. How have you been?” He seemed embarrassed talking so loudly but the music was hard to talk over.

“Why don’t we talk about this later, Foo- Arnold.”  Helga cringed at her slip up. He would surely figure out it was her if they kept talking and her nickname for him slipped out. He seemed a little disappointed.

She frowned. This wasn’t working. The two danced beside one another without speaking for the rest of the song, avoiding each other’s glances.

Helga felt so guilty for lying to him. She couldn’t possibly hide from him for much longer. And what if by hiding herself behind her Cécile persona, she missed her chance to confess to Arnold for real? What if they graduated high school and went their separate ways? She would forever lament this dance, this silence amongst the booming beat of the music and the sight of her beloved Arnold looking so uncomfortable and confused.  She couldn’t pretend anymore. This was a masquerade – her entire life had been a masquerade. It was time to take off the mask and show Arnold the real Helga G Pataki.

“Arnold.” She stopped dancing and put her gloved hand on his shoulder. He turned to face her, with a look of surprise briefly flashing over his features.

The loud music faded out and for a moment Helga thought her wildly beating heart had pumped the blood to muffle her ears. The sound eased into a slow ballad. Her confession stuck in her mouth and she gulped it back down when her eyes met his. He smiled, almost knowingly. Without a word he took her hand and pulled her close. She forgot how to move, so intimate was the gesture. Last time she had been so close to him was when he danced the tango with her back in fourth grade. His hand moved to her waist – only the thin layers of silk and gauze between his hand and her bare skin. She shivered in pleasure at the thought. She felt light as air as they swayed to the ballad. She was slow dancing with Arnold.

She snapped out of it, looking up at Arnold’s amused face. She must have had that stupid goofy smile on her face again.  As it dawned on her that she was in his arms, confessing suddenly didn’t feel so urgent. She smiled to herself. _I should enjoy it while I can_.

She moved in closer to Arnold, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. Her smile grew as she felt him jump in surprise at the intimate action, then he relaxed again. His hand twitched at her waist. She reveled in the warmth of the embrace, breathed in his scent and tried to memorise how it felt, just in case this should turn out to be a dream. Just in case her confession failed.

“Cécile…” She felt Arnold’s voice rumble in his chest. It sounded like he was pleading. “Please… tell me who you really are. Tell me you are the girl I want you to be. Tell me you still feel the same about me as before…”

Helga froze.

Did that mean…? Was it even possible that he knew?

He pulled away, surprised that their slow dance had ended. He then held her hands, before lifting one of his to her face to move the blonde locks from over her eye. He removed her final mask. She could only look into his green eyes as they twinkled with realisation. She felt the tears begin to well in her eyes.

“Helga…” He spoke her name as if it were the most beautiful in the world. As soft as a sigh from an angel.

“Arnold…” She whimpered, “Y-You knew?”

He smiled, bringing a finger to wipe a straying tear from her cheek.

Helga wanted nothing more at that moment but to kiss him, but for some reason, her old habit seemed to crop up.

She panicked.

She stepped back, almost tripping up on her dress, and succeeding in bumping into another slow-dancing couple.

As she rushed out of the gym, she heard Eugene cry “I’m okay!” as Sheena helped him up, she heard Phoebe asking if she was alright, and she heard Arnold call her name, in a voice that echoed in her head, full of hurt and panic.  But she didn’t stop running.

 


	2. Part Two

She collapsed in the parking lot behind the gym, her feet no longer able to run in heels.  The tears streaked down her face in hot, wet trails. Her eyes stung in the cool outside air. The music of the prom began a faster beat, throbbing in the background and blending with the memory of Arnold’s anguished cry.

She had messed it up.

As usual she had ruined it for herself. Arnold now thought she hated him. He had confessed to her, hadn’t he?

But he hadn’t. A nagging voice in her head said so. She reminded herself that what he said was open to interpretation. Though his eyes betrayed some great deal of affection for her, she couldn’t be entirely sure she wasn’t imagining it. Something about wanting Cécile to be a certain girl – she had no confirmation that Helga was in fact the girl he had hoped for.  As Cécile hadn’t she admitted her feelings? He could have been referring to that. She punched the tarmac of the parking lot with her gloved fist, angry that she had run away. She knew she should have stayed to face the music, but now she was sure there would be no reconciliation.

“You’re going to get your pretty dress dirty if you stay on the floor like that.” She heard a familiar voice say behind her.

Arnold walked up and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Helga.”

She looked up at him, confused. He offered his hand to help her up.

“Le-let me explain, okay?” He said, a blush rising to his cheeks. She put her hand in his and got to her feet, tripping up over the hem of her dress and falling into Arnold’s arms. Now she joined him in blushing and the two jumped apart in surprise.

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“I-I was hoping it was you, Helga. When I recognised you as Cécile, it was like everything fell into place. I was torn when I first saw you -- I was looking for the Helga I knew and in walked a mysterious angel, you had me mesmerised. I did think I may end up missing my chance with Helga, but then I saw you looked like Cécile and things began to fit together a bit. Memories of that Valentine’s Day and why you were so familiar started me thinking. But I wasn’t sure, at least not until you almost called me ‘Football Head’.” He looked up and smiled at her, “Then it all made sense – you were Cécile all those years ago, you were here, looking stunning and I finally had my chance to respond to your confession.”

“You mean the one on the FTi Building? The one back in _4 th grade_? Boy, you sure are prompt Arnoldo.” She rolled her eyes, despite herself. He laughed.

She wrapped her arms around herself, hoping that this was leading to a positive confession. Though she could see no reason why it wouldn’t be all she dreamed of, doubt still lingered.

“You told me back then that you loved me.” He said, his gaze fixed on her eyes. Pleading. “Do you still feel that way?”

“Why should it matter? This is not my confession, Arnold. This is yours, so stop asking me the questions and just tell me how you feel. Stop messing me around!” She cried.

“I like you, Helga. I like you- like you.” He gave her a half-lidded gaze. “I’ve been gradually seeing more of the real you during the past year and realising how blind I have been until now. You were always there for me, so I want to be here for you. I want you to be my girlfriend, Helga. Tell me I am not too late. Please?”

She was dumbstruck. It seemed so farfetched that she should come to her prom and the very thing she had always dreamed of would come true. The boy she had been crushing on for practically her whole life had sworn his undying love for her.

 _Hey, hey, hey, Helga!_ She reprimanded herself, _don’t get carried away! He just likes-you-likes you. He said nothing of love._

But still, the implication was that he could love her. One day in the future he could love her as she loved him. It all depended on how she answered him right now.

She swallowed her courage, which was all the more difficult given that nerves had left her mouth like cotton-wool. Her gaze locked on his increasingly worried eyes. Fear swarmed her suddenly and she averted her gaze, plastering a scowl on her face as her defense. Mask back up.

“Well, Football-Head… I guess since you asked so nicely I could do you a favour and go out with you.” She said in a nonchalant way, despite her heart fluttering.  His confusion at her transformed demeanor became understanding and his eyes lit up. He rushed forward and pulled Helga close to him and into a hug. At first, she stood stock straight, caught by surprise. Then she melted into the embrace, her scowl becoming a goofy grin and a dreamy sigh escaping her. He chuckled and brought her back down to Earth. Pulling away from him she reverted back to her defense-mode and warned him of getting too “touchy-feely”.

“Whatever you say, Helga.” He said, with his half-lidded gaze. It seemed to see through her defensive mask and left her feeling all exposed. The idea of him realising this wasn’t the 'real her' didn’t worry Helga too much though. She realised that it would take time to get out of the habit of reverting to this bully persona around him in intimate moments. He seemed to understand this too. She allowed herself to smile at him.

“Shall we go back into the dance?” He asked, offering her his arm. It was tempting. She really did want to dance with him again – their first dance as an official couple. Then she thought about her slightly over-dramatic exit and her cheeks flamed.

“NO!” Arnold’s eyes widened as she squealed her answer. “I-I mean… er… dancing is so lame. I’d much rather stay out here.” She covered. He smiled knowingly.

“Well, that suits me too, Helga. I get to spend more time alone with you…”

She blushed. How she had always longed to hear him say that, to stare at her as he was currently… she was wondering if this could possibly be a dream.

“I don’t want to wake up.”

“What do you mean?”

She froze. Had she said that aloud?

“I mean- I don’t want to wait up… too long.” She bluffed, glancing at an invisible watch on her wrist. “Boy, look at the time! Big Bob is gonna kill me.” She began walking off, cursing herself for not being more creative.

“Helga wait!” Arnold called, catching up to her and spinning her round to face him.

“Don’t go yet! It’s still early. Or… or at least let me take you home.” His eyes were sincere in their concern.

She hated herself for her inability to just be honest. Why couldn’t she be herself around him? Guilt welled up inside her, and she averted her eyes.

“Fine, Football-Head.”

He grinned and held out his hand to her. Timidly she held out her gloved hand and he grabbed hold of it, giving her a reassuring squeeze as their eyes met. She flushed as pink as her dress.

Arnold led her over to his car – the old Packard he’d borrowed from his grandfather. Helga was secretly quite grateful that she’d accepted a ride from Olga so that she could take advantage of the offer from Arnold without worrying about her own car. It was yet again something she’d have to thank Olga for, as well as the makeover and dress.  And the forcing her to actually turn up at the prom. How very Olga-like for her to be right again.

Gentlemanly as always, Arnold opened the passenger door and helped her into the front seat. He placed a kiss on her gloved hand which made her head spin and then closed the door just before her face went all goofy and she practically melted in her seat. By the time he’d ran round to the driver’s side she’d recovered.

As soon as he sat in the car he looked over at Helga.

“What?” She asked, a little harsher than she was hoping to sound. There was something about the way his green eyes looked at her that made her nervous.

“Nothing.” He looked down at his lap, embarrassed. “It’s just- I can’t believe you actually said yes.” He smiled back up at her again. “I’m really glad you did.”

Seeing his smile aimed all at her, she felt her heart skip a beat. She could feel her face heating up. She began to twiddle with her gloves.

Arnold turned on the ignition, and switched on the radio, filling the car with the smooth jazz music she’d always associated with her beloved.

“I hope you don’t mind.” He asked, “It’s stuck on this station.” She shook her head.

“No. I learned a long time ago to appreciate jazz music. It always reminds me of…” She refused to say anymore. That would be revealing too much, too soon. But she could tell by the brightening of his eyes that he understood her.

He pulled out and they began the short drive to Helga’s house.  They let the jazz tunes fill the awkward silence between them, neither sure of what to say.

Helga found it hard to believe what had happened, and half expected to wake up from a dream and be forced to relive the prom all over again, with a less favourable outcome. She kept glancing over at Arnold, who seemed unnaturally focused on the road ahead. She wondered if perhaps he was having regrets. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words would come out. What if anything she said made him decide he had been wrong about her?

Before she realised, the car pulled up outside the purple-bricked front of her house. Arnold turned to her.

“Well, we’re here.” He announced. They simultaneously sighed, then looked up at each other in surprise. Then, seeing how funny it was that they both sighed at exactly the same time, they laughed. Arnold was the first to leave the car, getting up to open her door for her.

“I can open the door for myself, you know, Football-Head.” He smiled.

“I see you are going to keep calling me names.”

Helga froze. She couldn’t help it – she was so used to it! What if she hurt him and he broke up with her? She bit her lip in worry.

“Don’t sweat it, Helga.” He took her hand and helping her out of the car, “I’ve long since thought of it as… well, your nickname for me.” He blushed a little, “I mean, you’re the only one who calls me that.”

Helga thought about it and it dawned on her that it was true. Even Wolfgang called Arnold something different. Similar, but different. And totally stupid. ‘Football-Face’ made a lot less sense than ‘Football-Head’. She allowed herself to smile reassuringly at Arnold, as for a while now she’d considered it to be her own nickname for him. They were on the same page.

He kept hold of her hand, and she was too wrapped up in his gaze to shake him off. Arnold led her up the steps and the two stood for a few minutes at the top of the stoop, just holding hands.

Helga blushed when she became aware of it.

“I-I guess I’d better go inside.” Helga finally said, breaking their awkward silence. Suddenly Arnold began to look very nervous. She raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s up, Football-Head?”

He mumbled something, but she couldn’t quite catch it.

“You’ll have to speak up, Arnold. I can’t hear you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes widened. A kiss? Did he want to kiss her? She felt like she was about to faint. Her first kiss with Arnold! No, she reminded herself, her fourth kiss with Arnold. Or third; fake CPR on the set of Babewatch didn’t count. Still, this was the first time Arnold will have kissed her of his own free will. That meant more than any of the other kisses. Words failed her though, so all she could do was nod. Arnold relaxed a little, and smiled at her, looking into her nervous blue eyes with a determination that almost frightened her. He’d never looked at her like that before.

He lifted his hand and brushed a wave of blonde hair from her face, cupping her blushing cheek. He leaned closer and she could smell his aftershave, his shampoo, the scent that sent longing to her very core. Then, with the softest of brushes, she felt his lips touch hers. Soft and warm, and as gentle as the touch of a butterfly. Her insides melted and she almost fell over. When her knees buckled slightly, Arnold’s free hand held her waist. Finding her footing once more, Helga pressed back into the kiss, impatient at his softly, softly approach. She wanted him to feel the passionate fire of her love. His eyes widened when she pushed back and even nipped his lip with her teeth playfully. He smirked back into the kiss and then parted. Helga pouted, disappointed that it had ended so soon. She was used to far longer kisses with him.

“Goodnight, Helga. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Helga could only nod. He reached his car and she saw him touching his lips. He then turned his head back to look at her with a smile and a half-lidded gaze.

She smiled back, before pushing her front door open and slipping inside. She watched through the crack in the door as he got in his car and cheered, his fist pumping the air. She laughed as he drove off.

Then it hit her. She was Arnold’s girlfriend. After all these years of longing for him, he actually liked her back. She mimicked Arnold and touched her lips. It was all real.

“Baby Sister?”

Helga jumped out of her skin, as Olga appeared at the top of the stairs. Olga rushed down the stairs, worry bringing a shimmer to her eyes. “Is everything okay, Helga?”

Helga noticed the clock. Damn, she’d hardly even been out an hour. No wonder Olga was so freaked out.

“Everything’s fine, Olga.”

“Are you sure? Did you not have fun at the prom?”

Helga smiled.

“Actually… the prom sucked. It was what happened when I left that made tonight the best night of my life.”

“Are you being sarcastic, Baby Sister?” Olga frowned, assuming she was being mocked.

“No. For once, Olga, I am being perfectly serious. I had a blast.” She bridged the gap between herself and her older sister. “I actually want to thank you. If you hadn’t convinced me to go, I never would have…” she stopped. She felt closer to her sister, but not close enough to reveal her big news just yet. She wanted to protect her eardrums. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Olga’s neck and hugged her.

Olga was surprised.

“Y-you’re very welcome, Helga.” Then her voice cracked and Helga heard the sniffing. She jumped away.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey! Not on the new dress, Olga! I don’t want to get my lucky dress covered in mascara, tears, and snot, okay.”

Olga pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, giving Helga an apologetic look.

“Ah. What the hell. It’s all thanks to you. I owe you another hug.” And the two sisters hugged once more.

Helga didn’t even mind. Olga had been so right about Helga’s life for once. Her meddling hadn’t ended in disaster but in a miracle. It wasn’t very often a member of her family looked out for her, and after the night she’d had, she owed it mostly to Olga’s expert manipulation, make-up skills and that empire line gown that somehow was exactly the right size.

“Baby sister?”

“Yes, Olga?”

“Whatever happened to your mask?”

Helga laughed. She’d totally forgotten about it. Smiling she looked at her sister.

“I just don’t need it anymore.”

 

 **Fin**.


End file.
